


You Need To Cut Your Hair

by xpunkstylesx



Category: Ed Sheeran (Musician)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-13
Updated: 2016-04-13
Packaged: 2018-06-01 23:25:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6541024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xpunkstylesx/pseuds/xpunkstylesx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by the song 'You Need To Cut Your Hair' by Ed Sheeran.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Need To Cut Your Hair

**Author's Note:**

> So this is kind of weird and essentially all the spoken words are only lyrics from Ed. This was the storyline that I thought fit into his song so well, so hope you like it!

She strode in, throwing her black leather jacket on the neatly made bed, huffing at the perfectly lined textbooks on the 6 shelves in front of her. Her hand itched to knock them all over, strewing them on the floor and leaving him to clean it up, forcing him to face chaos in his perfect little room. 

He wasn’t far behind, cheeks aflame and almost the color of his bright ginger hair. He stopped to shut the door softly, preparing for the screaming match that was likely to happen soon. He took his glasses off, wiping them on his sweater vest quickly, glancing between them and her, wondering when the tirade would begin. 

She spun around abruptly, voice rising as she said, “Well I walked from my house to yours in a warm cold April rain.”

He started to butt in, reminding her of something that was convenient to forget for her, “We barely went outdoors-”

“And your family took the blame!” She cut him off, determined to win. Continuing, she reminded him, “Take time and be with you-”

Now it was his turn to cut her off, “She can only glare.”

“I’m a bad influence,” She huffed, placing herself on the warm bed, pushing her worn jacket aside.

“That’ll do,” He returned, softening his voice, not willing to enter the argument of how they influenced each other. He sat down next to her, keeping a distance but reaching a hand across, placing it lightly on her muscular thigh.

Yet she seemed unwilling to let it go, continuing, “Cause I need to cut my hair, wash my mouth, change my clothes…”

Her voice trailed, and his mouth moved quicker than he could catch it, blabbering on, “Just don’t talk to those friends of yours tell them not to come here anymore.”

He visibly paled, drawing his now shaking hands to cover his mouth, shame and dread filling him as he heard his harsh words echo in the air.

He expected her to scream, yell, something, but she just mumbled, softly under her breath, almost quiet enough for him not to hear, “Time to go.”

She jerked up, grabbing her jacket and clenching it with knuckles turning white, and strode out of his room, perhaps his life. He watched her yank the door open and slam it against the opposite wall, sending the shattering sound straight to his stomach. 

As soon as she stepped out she paused, seemingly rethinking what she was about to do, and walked back, standing close enough to touch him.

“This’ll only take a mo’,” She spat with rage, mechanically pulling her hand across his pale cheek, leaving a blood red stain.

 

Across town, in the section most considered the snotty neighborhood, a boy who believed he was a man sat in front of an old motorcycle, fixing its broken screws, as a woman who believed she was a girl sat on a hard bench behind him, craning her neck to see what he was doing. 

She tried to catch his attention, clearing her throat softly, but he kept his head down, entranced by his two wheeler. 

“Time spent in burnt-down shed add up near two days.” She started, voice cracking slightly after not being used for so long. He stopped moving, turning around slowly to face her, a sloppy grin on his worn face.

“Fall down and cut my hair, take time to misbehave.” He replied, laughing lightly at the end.

She shook her head, looking down at her lap and sighing, wondering if he’d ever come around to the idea of being safe once in awhile. 

His demeanor changed quickly as he saw her scowling, stiffening and trying his best to keep his voice soothing, reminded her, “Take time and be with you, she can only glare.” 

“Cause you’re a bad influence,” This time her voice had dropped to a whisper, her deepest fears being confirmed when he did nothing but nod, affirming that perhaps he wasn’t having the best impact on her. 

“That’ll do,” He simply said, turning back around and squaring his shoulders, fear lacing his veins as he pushed the gears harder, as though taking his anger out on the vehicle rather than himself or her. 

She stood, walking closer to him and placing a small palm on his muscular shoulder, forcing him to acknowledge her. They hadn’t been stable as of late, she changing too much to try and please him but never asking him to change much for her, though he begged and pleaded. 

“Boy,” She started, voice shaking with the insecurity of her thoughts, “You need to cut your hair, was your mouth, change your clothes, just don’t talk to those friends of yours, tell them not to come here anymore.”

He suddenly jerked away from her delicate touch, not expecting her sudden demands, although he had requested them. His voice came out rough, anger and stubbornness flooding his words, “Time to go.”

She almost shook, irritation getting the best of her, sending her back to a pile of messy, angry feelings, “Don’t be slow.”

“This’ll only take a mo’,” He promised, grabbing his jacket from the bench she had been sitting on and taking keys out of one of the many pockets, shoving them into his motorcycle.

She became desperate as he tried to make it start, letting out a weak, “Take yourself right out of my door!”

He looked back at her, a sarcastic reply about the lack of a door threatening to come out, but he restrained himself, scoffing and getting the engine running, swinging one leg over and turning the wheels in the direction of the fastest way away from her. 

She stood rooted to her spot, hardly believing she was watching him leave, but the revving of his engine yanked her towards him. She clutched his arm just as he was making to go, clinging so tightly that her knuckles were in danger of turning red. 

He turned to face her, slight surprise in his features but a wall still separating them, one which she attempted to climb over, “It’s just that they don’t care-”

“Dad said beware, watch your back, just don’t reply to that woman over there, and even if she makes a fuss-” He admitted, seeing her stormy grey eyes fill with compassion.

“Just ignore the trust?” She asked, remembering her parent’s words to her a short week ago as she had discussed the love of her life.

“ _ And _ don’t give in to lust, and leave that one alone,” He finished, the wounds from those harsh demands still fresh, though they’d been inflicted long ago.

She inspected him, his hunched, tired shoulders, and his tense muscles, anger riddling his veins, and wrapped her hand over his on the handle, swinging her leg over to sit behind him. He made no motion no move, neither questioning nor accepting her. It was a well known fact between the two of them that she detested his motorcycle, simply because she was way too scared to ride it with him. And yet there she was, enjoying a lofty seat, arms now firmly wrapped around him, silently urging him to go. And eventually, he complied, revving his way out of her property and onto the open road, directing them towards an open bar known for its loud music. 

 

She arrived with her leather jacket still on her shoulders, her man two steps behind, fidgeting with the topmost button on his shirt. As usual, she caught every man’s attention, but she kept her path focused, reaching behind to yank him towards her. There still remained a quiet kind of tension between the two, but she couldn’t imagine losing him among a crowd like this after such a silly fight, hoping to remedy her screaming with a bit of dancing. 

She stopped in front of the dance floor, swaying her hips and turning to him, a smile painting her lips as she eyed his still-crooked tie.

“This is the dancing song…” she nudged him, hoping to get something out of his rigid movements.

 

Across the floor, she was still in her poodle skirt, clutching his hand as he guided them to the middle of the floor. He finally stopped, turning round to face her and placing his hands on her hips, ducking down to whisper, “Close your eyes, hypnotise to the beat and the movement of the week.”

She nodded, following his instructions and moving her hips to the high powered music, willing herself to get lost in the music.

 

The crooked tie still bothered him on the edge of the floor, his hand always wandering towards it to make subtle adjustments. He eventually stepped back from her, too frustrated with it to keep moving, and watched her in amusement as she showed off her skills, something he lacked a lot of.

“Do that shuffle of your feet,” He laughed, somehow genuinely enjoying himself. 

She grabbed the front of his shirt, bringing him right back and messing up his tie again, yelling, “And pound out the fever!”   
  


The floor swayed to the music, and as the next song came to a close, the singer of the band stood up, red hair flaming as he encouraged, “Dance as you’re a true believer. Cleaner lives are what you don’t see-”

The couple on the edge still hadn’t stopped moving, the music flowing between them louder than the words the singer could speak. She leaned over to whisper in his ear, unaware of the looks, “Feel the weight, gravitate, feel the pace of me.”

 

“This world is 2D,” the artist continued, pausing for the cheers, “The only thing that’s free is love and that don’t come cheap.”

He took this affirmation to segway into the next song, words intermingling and singing about something like flying to a motherland. 

The two in the middle, they swayed to the rhythm and let the words infiltrate their souls, kindling the flames of their love and making them stronger with every discord.

 

The two on the side had had enough, sweaty and sticky, and made their way out of the cramped space, struggling to make it outside to the fresh and clean air. 

She leaned her body on the old brick wall, kicking a foot up to make herself fully comfortable, and watched him over her thin fingers working at lighting the cigarette in them. He paced a bit, trying to adjust to the abrupt change in temperature, but quickly stopped, spinning to observe her instead. 

Neither of them spoke a word, but a whole conversation transpired between them, feelings and emotions conveyed and understood by the other. 

“It’s just that they don’t care. Dad said beware, watch your back-” She started, quickly cut off by him.

“Just don’t reply to that woman there.  _ And _ even if she makes a fuss, just ignore that trust-”

“And don’t give in to lust.”

“And leave that one alone, the girl’s trouble.” He finished, a light blush tinting his cheeks as he did so, shame coursing through his veins as he registered her reaction.

She had seen it coming, but could hardly stand the words coming from his mouth so carelessly, although she knew they were just repeating what had been implanted in his thoughts long before that moment.

She made to leave, too scared to stay and watch him do so himself, when she felt his hand wrap around her waist, freezing her in her place. 

He caught her chin, forcing her eyes to meet his, and showed her what he really felt. 

There simply weren’t enough words in the world to describe it. 


End file.
